


Right Behind You

by ThePenultimateAvenger



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePenultimateAvenger/pseuds/ThePenultimateAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are certain things that Hermann picked up on in the drift that changed the way he looks at his lab partner, but gaps remained that he desperately wishes he could fill. For instance, he knows that Newt isn't straight. Newt's sexuality is actually somewhat of a grey area, something that has to go without a label, but if Hermann were to bring it up he's sure it would be simply be volunteering his neck for the cutting board. Tightening the noose, so to speak. Because despite the fact that he knows Newton isn't straight, the relationship that they have is turbulent at best and that's all it ever will be because Newt is Newt and Hermann is...well, Hermann.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There are certain things that Hermann picked up on in the drift that changed the way he looks at his lab partner, for better or worse, but gaps remain that he desperately wishes he could fill.

For instance, he knows that Newt isn't straight. Newt's sexuality is really more of a grey area, something without a definite label, but Hermann knows that if he were to bring it up he would only be volunteering his own neck for the cutting board. Tightening the noose, so to speak.

Because despite the fact that he knows Newton isn't straight, and despite the fondness he's somehow, for some unfathomable reason, developed for the kaiju biologist, the relationshi they have is turbulent at best and that's all it ever will be because Newt is Newt and Hermann is...well, a little bit in love with him.

There had been doors in Newt's mind that Hermann left closed for the sake of respecting boundaries, but linking minds with Newton wasn't something he ever expected because they aren't Jaeger pilots for God's sake. To have someone know him so deeply, for Newt to feel his memories, left him feeling overwhelmingly vulnerable and it wasn't a step he would have taken if the fate of the world hadn't rested upon their shoulders.

They, as a team. The K-Scientists of the resistance. After ten years they're the only ones left, the sole remnants of the Pan Pacific Defense Corp.'s science division, and now they have to navigate the aftermath.

Hermann takes another swig of the vodka he'd scrounged from one of the freezers in the kitchen, glaring up at his chalkboard with a deeply etched frown and furrowed brows. He hates vodka. He's not a fan of hard liquor in general, but unfortunately it's the only alcohol he's been able to find in the bloody Shatterdome since the clock had been stopped. He takes what he can get, though, because he'd rather be heavily intoxicated than have to think about the uncertain future that they will inevitably have to face once the euphoria of victory wears off.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, letting the almost deafening silence of the lab wash over him before his lips are twisting into a snarl and he's hurling a lamp across the room to shatter on the floor near one of the vacant desks. He should stop drinking. Should have stopped drinking half a bottle ago, but he's still not drunk enough to forget his anger and his jealousy, and he's certainly not drunk enough to forget that Geiszler is gallivanting about with the king of the Chinese black market. Again.

Who, Hermann reminds himself, isn't even that good looking. Not that he'd met the guy himself, but he'd seen the files Pentecost had shown them and he'd picked up glimpses in the drift. He is, however, exactly Newt's type. Dangerous, flashy, surrounded by more kaiju specimens than the government and any other private collectors combined. Hannibal Chau is the living embodiment of forbidden fruit, the polar opposite of Hermann, and it's not hard to guess the winner of Newton's affections.

There are only a couple sips sloshing around at the bottom of the bottle when the lab door clangs open, echoing across the desolation of empty lab space and cutting sharply into Hermann's awareness. He makes a show of tossing back the remaining vodka even though his stomach is already turning. The bottle dangles from his fingers as he turns his chair toward the door, struggling to meet Newt's eyes through the merciless spinning of the room. 

Newt raises an eyebrow. “Since when do you drink the hard stuff?” He questions, tossing a folder onto one of the desks and shrugging out of his leather jacket. The rain-soaked jacket gets discarded across Hermann's desk and Hermann will yell at him later because there is still a line dividing the room--the established rules don't just change because the world is no longer ending.

“Since when is it your business?” Hermann slurs back, tongue heavy in his mouth. Every time he blinks it feels like the floor is tilting from beneath his chair and it's only now that he's focusing on Newt that he begins to realize the extent of his intoxication.

There's a silence as Newt glances from Hermann down to the empty bottle, then over to the shattered remains of the lamp on the floor and something akin to concern crosses his features. “Did something happen?” He asks carefully, approaching Hermann like one would a timid animal. Hermann chooses to stare at one of the desks in the center of the room rather than his lab partner, allowing the bottle to be slipped from his grasp. “Dude, Hermann, what the fuck man?”

“I'm a grown man, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann begins, speaking slowly so he can enunciate. He manages to get to his feet, although gravity seems to be working against him, and he puts most of his weight onto the table next to him because the spinning is only getting worse. “I'm allowed to get drunk.”

“I never said you weren't.” Newt responds with a shrug, putting his hands out just in case Hermann begins to fall. “What worries me is why you're drunk. I mean come on, man, this isn't like you. What's up?”

Hermann ignores the concern, ignores the way Newt keeps trying to catch his eyes because it almost hurts to know that Newt cares; it hurts because Newt doesn't care enough. “I'm going to bed.”

“I'll walk with you.” Newt offers, hands reluctantly returning to his sides. He's ready to act, though, just in case Hermann begins the introductions between the floor and his face.

“I don't need your help.”

And despite Hermann's protest, Newt follows him anyway. “Our rooms are right across from each other. I just so happen to be walking in the same direction as you.” He says stubbornly as the lab door closes behind them.

The sound of their footsteps bounces off the walls to reverberate inside Hermann's skull, pounding just behind his eyes. “How was your meeting with Chau?” He spits once they're in the elevator, breaking the silence. He doesn't mean for it to sound so harsh but he's having a hard time toning down his bitterness. He's curious in spite of himself.

“Oh my god, for a psychopath Hannibal Chau is pretty fucking awesome. I mean, once you get past the occasional death threat. But he can get absolutely anything! He said that he'll have someone bring me a skin parasite to study, and the specimens he has! It's paradise! His guys have preserved basically everything, and he says that I can study whatever I want. Well, until they run out of kaiju bone powder and have to start selling everything else.” Newt pauses to frown at this because he doesn't necessarily agree with selling everything, but he still looks like a kid in a candy shop (which is so typical) and Hermann can't help the spike of white hot jealousy that shoots through him. How could he possibly expect to ever beat that? “...and he says that he knows someone who can do my next tats free of charge because, as he puts it, I'm the 'Moron Who Saved the World', and I reminded him that I only helped and couldn't have done it without you, and of course there are all the jaeger pilots, but free tattoos are way cool! If you ever want to get one...” Newt trails off, glancing over to Hermann who has remained silent. After a breath, he adds, “You would look good with one.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I don't think I'll be associating myself with any black market tattoo artists any time soon.” Hermann replies coldly. The elevator wall is doing a good job of keeping him upright but as it comes to a stop he feels himself wobble. Newt's hand is at his elbow in an instant.

“You okay?” He asks softly, and the glare he earns himself in response is lacking the usual punch. 

“I'm fine.” Hermann grits out, and the thought that his room is just down the hall is all the motivation he needs to tough it out. “Good night, Dr. Geiszler.” he says despite the fact that they still have an entire hallway to walk through before getting to their respective quarters, and Newt seems to make it a point to walk right alongside the mathematician.

“I'm not your enemy.” He says after a while, just as they're approaching their doors.

Hermann glances back, eyes briefly meeting Newton's before he pushes into his room. Of course they aren't enemies. Newt is, for all intents and purposes, the closest thing he has to a best friend and he feels a stab of guilt for leading Newt to be concerned about something like that. 

The guilt doesn't linger for long because Hermann is out as soon as his head touches the pillow, but he does put a thought towards being less antagonistic. Newt may not share his particular feelings but that doesn't have to hinder their friendship, after all.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The mess hall isn't as lively as it used to be.

Newt, of course, doesn't have much of a basis for comparison because half the time he would only make his way up to the mess when he was able to pry himself away from science in the small hours of the morning and the other half he'd skip meals altogether. But there had been a few times when he'd walked in and had been met with the chattering and laughter of jaeger pilots and technicians, and one time, an almost-fight between Raleigh Becket and Chuck Hansen.

But that was a different time.

It's different now that the war has ended.

Newt grabs his tray and allows his eyes to roam over the room, trying to ignore the way his heart tugs at the empty tables. It's not even just the people they lost fighting the kaiju--the Shatterdome has been steadily growing emptier as the week wears on because the threat's supposedly gone. The resistance has nothing to resist. Marshal Hansen has a plan, apparently, not that Newt knows about it because he's “just a science guy”. Which, of course, he's not holding against the guy because Herc had lost his _son_ , and it's a shock that he'd even taken up the title of marshal because he sure as hell should be taking a break. He's earned it by now. 

Newt's brought out of his reverie as he hears the call of “Hey, Geiszler!” from one of the nearby tables, turning with a smile to see Tendo Choi.

“What's up, my man?” Newt asks, setting his tray on the table and sliding into the seat across from Tendo. When the world is ending there isn't much time for _not_ getting along, but Tendo has always been easy to talk to. Newt isn't the best at maintaining friendships but Tendo's charisma more than makes up for it, and it doesn't hurt that they share similar tastes in music.

“So nothin's set in stone yet but Herc wanted me to let you and Gottlieb know that you should be ready for some changes.” Tendo says, pointing his fork at Newt.

“Is the program going to be shut down?”

“Nah, it's nothing like that. Herc's been talking to a lot of the higher-ups that gave Pentecost so much trouble before, negotiating I guess. Saying 'I told you so' in the most tasteful way possible.” Tendo grins but the mention of Pentecost leaves a look of loss beneath his expression. It makes sense that Tendo would take the death of the former marshal pretty hard, given that Pentecost, Hansen, and Tendo were the heart of the whole operation.

“Well, I'm glad our world leaders are finally willing to listen to reason.” Newt says, relieved that he still has a job for the foreseeable future. He'd been preparing himself for the worst so anything better that is fantastic because job hunting is a bitch. "Any idea what those changes you mentioned might entail?"

"As I said, everything is sorta up in the air right now but, worst case scenario, you get transferred somewhere else."

"Cool. I'll let Hermann know."

"Speaking of him," Tendo begins, and it is so very obvious where he's taking this. "Have you done anything to further Operation: Prince Charming, y'know, now that you have so much free time on your hands?"

“Uh, first of all, I'm pretty sure we agreed not to call it that. And second, that is a situation that I wouldn't even begin to know how to approach. So I don't.”

“To respond to your first point: that was never agreed upon. You protested, I told you making up names for things is my livelihood, we both walked away agreeing to disagree. Now, if you wanna kill two birds with one stone, all you gotta do is go up to him and ask him out to dinner or something. My codename for your crush becomes obsolete, you finally act on all these pent up years of romantic tension. Everybody wins.” Tendo pauses thoughtfully before adding, "Actually, you'll be doing most of the winning, but hey, more incentive."

Newt rolls his eyes as he shoves some food around his tray. “That's easy for you to say, but you're forgetting one very important factor in the equation. The factor whose cane will inevitably aim for the extremities if I ask him out.”

"Aw come on, he wouldn't get that pissed over one simple dinner date." Tendo offers reassuringly, though reall, he's only making an assumption based on the fact that Newt's still alive after all these years of sharing a lab with Gottlieb.

“Okay, but there could be laughing or...or yelling or something.”

“Doesn't he already yell at you?”

“Not the point.” Newt grumbles, and he doesn't even know why his love life, or lack thereof, is on the table. He let it slip _one time_ that he and Hermann aren't strictly enemies, that he actually likes and respects him, and Tendo had figured out the rest without even trying, and _no_ , Newt is not still bitter about it, thank you very much. “Yelling at me because I'm not listening to his lecture about lab cleanliness is one thing, but I'd rather keep my feelings out of it, thanks.” Pausing to take a bite of the food he bothered to leave the lab to get, he tries to think of anything to change the subject to because _anyone_ could walk past and hear them, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out who they're talking about. “So uh, you got a guesstimate of how long it'll take for us to know about our hopefully government funded future?”

“Two weeks, max? But I'll keep ya updated, Geiszler.”

“Thanks.”

Tendo looks down at his watch and lets out a groan, rushing to stand. “I was supposed to be in a meeting with Herc three and a half minutes ago and counting. I'll keep you in the loop, brother, good luck with Prince Charming.” He offers a wink, and then he's off.

Tendo deserves a break too, Newt thinks, but it's likely that the Shatterdome would come crashing down if that were to happen.

He finishes his meal quickly, his scarfing-down-food abilities expertly honed over the years of too much science and too little time, before dumping his tray and leaving the mess hall.

Reassignment wouldn't be too bad, he reasons as he meanders through the hallways on his way back down to the lab to see if Hermann's awake, and if so how hungover he is. There's a part of him that really loves Hong Kong—and having Hannibal as a contact has only makes it better because he has access to _so many_ kaiju pieces, plus having the ability to say you have a friend who works in the black market is a bonus any way you look at it.

And of course, he won't be going anywhere without the skin parasite he was promised, plus he may as well take Hannibal up on the offer of free tattoos. He's had ideas about what his next tattoos should be for months and getting them done anywhere other than Hong Kong would feel wrong because it's where they claimed victory.

He makes his way quietly into the lab—a feat for him—and tries to remember where he'd left the folder of tattoo ideas that had slowly accumulated over the years. Hermann is sitting at his desk, pen flowing sloppily over a piece of paper with his glasses low on his nose, and Newt resists the urge to once again tease him about the fact that he keeps his glasses on a chain. “How are you feeling?” He asks instead because not everyone it immune to hangovers like he is.

“Fine.” Hermann responds absently, his pen never halting it's flow.

“So I was talking to Tendo earlier.” Newt starts, undeterred by his lab partner's disinterest. With a look that goes unnoticed, he leans against the side of Hermann's desk, crossing his arms and waiting for the response he'll inevitably get just because of sheer proximity.

“I applaud your ability to converse with other human beings, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says as he lays his pen on the surface of the desk, looking at Newt over the top of his glasses, “However, I don't see why I need to be informed of them.”

“I just thought you'd be interested to know that we might get reassigned. But if you'd rather not know...”

Hermann stills when he hears the word ' _reassigned_ ', which is just about the reaction Newt was expecting. “Reassigned to where?”

“Nothing is for sure, and the only thing Tendo told me was to be ready for the _possibility_ of reassignment, but even that's just the worst case scenario.” Hermann's expression conveys his distaste in regards to the answer but he doesn't say anything else. Newt hadn't really expected him to, either, because it's a silent agreement that forewarning is the best they can ask for. Everything else is out of their hands. “So hey, have you seen my tattoo folder?”

Hermann barely glances up, then points to one of the filing cabinets in the back of the room where, lo and behold, the folder is sitting precariously on the top, corners of paper sticking out in every direction. “You've decided to visit the black market tattoo artist, then?” he asks, picking up his pen and returning his gaze to the paper.

Newt snatches the folder and flops into the chair in front of his own desk, sending a look in Hermann's direction. “I'm pretty sure they aren't a 'black market tattoo artist', Hermann.” He says with a slightly scolding tone. “They're just a tattoo artist who happens to know Hannibal Chau. I'm sure their business is perfectly legit.”

“Right.”

Newt takes a breath. “Do you wanna come with me?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Newt gets his ass kicked, but managed to be a gentleman in the process.

Newt has never punched anyone.

It's never been a necessity because he's a _scientist_ not a Jaeger pilot, damn it. However, he sees why it would have been convenient to take a self-defense class (or even just to have watched a karate tutorial on Youtube or something) as he and Hermann are surrounded in an alleyway by angry Chinese thugs who clearly aren't there to offer them directions. He can't understand what they're saying (he speaks English and German fluently, and can talk his way through a conversation in Russian, what more do you want?) but they're angry and Newt's pretty sure one of them has a metal pipe, which is only the most cliché thing in the history of bad guys ever. 

Still terrifying, though. 

Oh Jesus Christ is it terrifying.

“Hey, I don't want any trouble.” he squeaks as he takes an uncertain step back, putting his hands up in the universal ' _I'm harmless please don't kick my ass_ ' gesture.

“Wrong part of town to come to,” one of the angry men says, followed by what Newt assumes is a slur in Chinese, though he can't know for sure. It doesn't sound good.

The newly-tattooed skin around his lower back stings as he shifts to make himself look bigger, trying in vain to think of a way out of the situation. And if making yourself look larger can work against a bear, it'll totally work on street gangs too. Unfortunately, he's still too short to be any sort of intimidating and the angry men are still angry. Almost subconsciously, he moves to stand in front of Hermann, gently shoving the mathematician to a safer spot. 

The last thing Newt wants is for Hermann to get hurt because of him.

He senses the hit coming before it makes contact, so he's able to duck slightly to the side so that the dude in front of him just grazes the side of his face with his knuckles. Thinking fast, the biologist pulls his arm back and decks the guy square in the jaw, which takes the thug by surprise but doesn't do much beyond that. “Oh my _god_ , what is your face _made of_?” Newt cries, shaking his hand out with a pained grimace.

At least he's able to say that he's punched someone now.

The small victory is short-lived and he braces himself because two more guys are approaching and through his adrenaline daze he's not really sure how to handle it.

There's a lot of movement in a short amount of time and Newt can't really process when one hit ends and another starts as the air is knocked out of him, ending with a rough shove towards the concrete wall.

His head is knocked back, a splitting pain spreading across his skull as he sinks toward the ground. Almost simultaneously, one of the thugs lets out a cry as his own head is bashed into the wall a few feet away. It takes Newt a few moments to realize that a small group of newcomers are taking the thugs down, and it takes him even longer to realize that the newcomers are Hannibal Chau's cronies.

Which is hopefully good news, but Newt can't really be sure with the throbbing inside his head. “Hermann, are you okay?” is the first thing he can manage to choke out and he tries to tell if Hermann is injured through blurred glasses.

“I'm fine.” The mathematician says shakily, which isn't as good an answer as Newt would like, but it would have to suffice because he's out before he can ask anything else.

* * *

Hermann isn't sure how to react as one of Chau's goons brings him a cup of tea, muttering a quiet “thank you” into the awkward silence. Newt's unconscious form is spread across the couch, breathing steady despite the fact that his face is a mess and he's certainly going to be sporting some bruises in the morning. Hermann feels impelled to run a hand through Newt's hair, just to assure himself that he really is okay, but if Newt and Hannibal really are dating, he doesn't want to overstep any boundaries. Of course, Hermann also assumes that it's Chau's fault that they were jumped in an alley because Newt was obviously be painting a big red target in the middle of his forehead just by associating with Chau, let alone dating him. 

“You got a problem, bub?” Hannibal calls from across the room where he'd been talking to one of his henchmen, his voice cutting suddenly through the air and Hermann realizes that he's been glaring as the rest of the room falls silent.

“I do have a problem,” he begins on an impulse, setting the cup of tea on the ornate coffee table in front of him as he tries to sit up straighter, realizing that everyone in the room save for the unconscious Newt is looking at him. “With you, actually.” They're brave words coming from someone who could literally be snapped in half by Hannibal Chau, but Hermann hopes that his status with the PPDC will be enough to hide behind.

Chau raises an eyebrow, eyes hidden behind dark lenses as he steps closer, cutting the distance between them nearly in half. It only makes him look bigger. “Is that so?”

The words sound dangerous—sound more like a threat than a question, and Hermann can practically sense Stacker Pentecost turning in his grave as he takes a fraction of a second to choose his words. “Do all of your boyfriends get jumped in alleyways? Because your lackeys seemed to be pretty close at hand for it to be just a coincidence.”

Hannibal is silent for a moment before he lets out something that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle, the entire room letting out a breath simultaneously. “Are you implying that me an' this kid are dating?” he asks incredulously, pointing at Newt with a larger finger.

Hermann itches to reach for his tea, but he can't find the courage to move. “I am.”

“Then I think you've been misinformed.” Hannibal takes a few steps closer, standing just behind the couch that Newt currently occupies and Hermann is glad to have it as a barrier. “Admittedly, when this moron came looking for a kaiju brain to drift with, I offered to take him out for drinks if the world didn't end but he strongly implied that he already had someone in his life. And yeah, I had my guys follow you two, but only because you're both pretty damn important and this isn't the best part of town. I don't really feel like having the PPDC knocking down my door for getting its most important scientists killed, thank you very much. I don't need that kind of debt hanging over my head.”

Hermann clears his throat awkwardly because that wasn't the answer he'd been expecting at all. It's a relief, of course, that Newt isn't dating Chau but he wouldn't get to enjoy it if the guy killed him. “I see.” He says, finally reaching for his tea as a distraction.

It's a terrifying thought that he just called out Hannibal Chau, only to be wrong.

Because if there's one person Hermann doesn't want to provoke for no reason, it's Hannibal Chau. You know, because the guy basically owns the Asian black market and could probably find a place to hide the bodies if he needed to, regardless of his status with the PPDC.

Before either men can say anything, however, Newt lets out a sudden loud groan, eyes fluttering open. “Oh my _jesus_ , I feel like I was hit by a truck, why does it feel like I was hit by a truck?”

“Because you can't fight worth shit.” Chau barks back, getting to his feet and calling something in Chinese into the other room. The rest of the room returns to life simultaneously, going back to what they were doing before Hermann had said anything.

“I'd definitely give myself an A for effort, dude.” Newt mutters, craning his neck to look at Hermann as Chau steps out. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Yes, I'm fine.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Newt asks as he moves to sit up, letting out a slight hiss through his teeth. Hermann is caught between telling him to lie back down and helping him up, but before the mathematician can make up his mind, Newt is already up.

“I'm absolutely sure.” Hermann responds, watching as Newt feels around his ribs, the biologist making a face when he presses on a particularly sore spot. “You're the one who took the brunt of it.”

“Yeah but there were a lot of guys.” Newt supplies, frowning in Hermann's direction.

“And you pissed all of them off.” Hermann bites back, part of him wanting desperately to ask why Newt had stepped in to protect him while the other part is afraid of what the answer would be. “You're lucky you didn't get yourself killed.”

 

* * *

Thirty minutes later, they're being ushered into the back seat of a car by two of Chau's goons to be delivered back at the Shatterdome, which Hermann assumes is Hannibal's way of getting them out of his hair since the man hadn't even bothered saying anything once he left the room when Newt regained consciousness. Of course, being the king of the criminal underworld is probably a lot more work than it looks, and it's not like Hermann wanted to spend any more time with the man than was strictly necessary. He considers himself lucky to have escaped alive, in fact. Newt groans as he makes an attempt to readjust himself once he's seated, struggling to find a position that doesn't hurt.

“Those painkillers ought to kick in soon.” Hermann says while buckling his seatbelt, wishing Hannibal had given a more clear answer than “ _strong_ ” when he'd asked what the painkillers were. He wouldn't put it past Chau to give Newt something of questionable legality, but Chau had already admitted to not wanting to kill them, so it was a safe bet that he wouldn't try to poison Dr. Geiszler. And if it helps Newt feel a little a little better, well...that's not such a bad thing, is it? 

“See, Hannibal is totally a good guy.” Newt says with a nod and a smile that he seems to regret when he remembers his split lip.

“He could be worse, I'll give you that.” Hermann admits, resisting the urge to roll his eyes because he still doesn't like the guy very much. But at the same time, Chau's not involved with Newt and that's the important part.

“I can't wait to get back to the Shatterdome so I can fall into bed and sleep for five years.”

“No you don't,” Hermann admonishes, giving Newt a stern look. “when we return you're going straight down to medical to ensure that you aren't concussed and that nothing is broken.”

“I'm fine, Hermann. I just need to sleep it off.” Newt says, giving Hermann the most persuasive look he can manage in his state. Hermann knows that it's because Newt doesn't like going down to medical, but like it or not he was going to have to.

(Besides, the only reason Newt doesn't like it is because one of the nurses always hits on him when he's there, and that's just _childish_.)

“Don't be an idiot, Newton.”

“I'm adult and you can't make me.” Newt crosses his arms stiffly, trying not to jostle any of his injuries but failing because _everything hurts_. All his efforts are in vain.

“I can always tell Marshal Hansen about that disgusting louse you have stashed away in the back of the lab.” Hermann threatens. He's made the threat several times since Newt had received the skin parasite from Chau, but he's never actually been serious about it because despite the fact that it's an awful creature, it seems to make Newt happy.

For some unfathomable reason.

In any case, the threat seems to work as Newton lets out a huff. “I don't see what you have against Timothy.” He says stubbornly, narrowing his eyes at Hermann.

“Perhaps it's the fact that you named it _Timothy_.” Hermann mutters back almost fondly because the argument ended the same way every time. And even if he's not serious about telling Hansen, he can at least coerce Newt into looking after his own health which should be Newt's responsibility _anyway_.

But Hermann doesn't mind reminding him.


	4. Chapter 4

Newt knows he shouldn't feel so bad about the situation because everything turned out _fine_ in the grand scheme of things--he's gonna be sore for a while but he'll live. Still, he can't help the guilt that gnaws away at the back of his mind for even putting Hermann in a position to get hurt in the first place. _Logically_ , he tells himself for the five-billionth time that night, there would have been no way to change anything; there would've been nothing he could have done.

And logic is solid—logic is _good_.

But despite the fact that Newt is a scientist and his entire career is based around logic, he can't shake the feeling that everything that _could_ have happened would have been his fault. A million scenarios fly through his mind, possibilities about what the night could have turned into, and each of them brings yet another fragment of guilt to settle uneasily upon his shoulders.

“You should be in bed, Newton.”

Newt jumps at the sudden voice because it's two in the morning and the lab should be empty, swiveling his chair to see Hermann resting most of is weight on one of the tables at the center of the room. “Can't sleep.” he mutters with a weak shrug because everything still hurts and moving in and of itself is a chore.

“You're never going to heal if you never sleep.” Hermann admonishes, taking a few steps forward and putting a hand carefully on Newt's shoulder. He's gentle, almost timid, and the simple touch sends Newt's heart racing. 

He wants to shrug it off but he can't bring himself to, choosing instead to stare at a spot on the wall so he doesn't have to make eye contact. The worst part, he feels, is knowing that Hermann _doesn't_ blame him for anything because somehow it makes him feel even guiltier. “It's not like I never get any sleep, dude. It just...doesn't come easily. That's all.” Newt stands up, trying not to make a face when Hermann doesn't move is hand.

“I'll make them keep you in medical, if that's what it takes.” Hermann says, his words quiet but serious and Newt almost wishes they'd never Drifted because they can read each other too well now. Which would be fine if, you know, Newt wasn't completely head-over-heels, but he _is_ and it makes Hermann's concern for him feel like too much and not enough all at once.

“I'd like to see you try.” Newt mutters because the only way anyone would get him back down to medical would be if the Jaeger pilots dragged him, kicking and screaming. “The doctor said I was free to go, so I'm not going back.”

“He also instructed you to stay in bed and you've done everything but.” Hermann finally moves his hand, crossing his arms as he appraises Newt with a frown. “You _know_ I don't blame you for anything, Newton.”

“I know.” Newt says, heaving a sigh. “But you have every right to and I don't understand why you don't.”

“Because, you idiot, it wasn't your fault. If I were going to throw blame at anyone other than the thugs themselves, it would be Hannibal Chau because he practically saw it coming. If anything, you protected me by taking the brunt of the damage, so stop blaming yourself.”

Newt doesn't know what to say because he's never been good at coming right out and talking about emotions. The way he and Hermann were before Drifting—the yelling and the arguing—was almost nice because sure, he can yell about feelings, especially when they're buried underneath multiple layers of sarcasm, but having a face to face conversation about them just _sucks_. “I could have gone on my own, though.” he tries, hanging on to the idea that he's at fault because he's a stubborn bastard.

“Yes, you could have, and you probably would have been killed.” Hermann quips in return, giving Newt one of those looks that says, ' _stop arguing this because I'm right_ '. “Look, I was happy to go with you because I know that you have problems getting tattoos on your own, so trust me when I say that you are the last person at fault for whatever could have happened.”

There's really no way to rebut that—even though Newt wants to—and he crosses his arms with an exaggerated frown. “Fine, okay, whatever. It's not my fault.”

Hermann gives a small smile before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a prescription bottle of sleep aids, Newt's name typed out on the label from medical. “Now get some sleep, okay?”

Newt can't help but feel a little touched.

 

* * *

 

They both make their way into the mess hall a week later, the sight of people at the tables still a bit foreign to them from so many years of taking meals during the ungodly hours of the morning when most sane people are in bed. “It's weird, isn't it?” Newt asks as they get in line with their trays, actually managing a smile now that his lip is mostly healed.

Hermann nods his agreement because it _is_ weird, especially since so few faces are recognizable to him. There are consequences to living almost nocturnally for so long, he supposes as he fills his tray. “I think I like it better at four in the morning.”

“Aw, Hermann, I knew you liked my company.” Newt responds cheekily and Hermann doesn't even have a chance to roll his eyes before someone behind them calls out, “Yo, Geiszler!”

“Tendo!” Newt calls in response, bumping fists as the three of them move to find a table. “Heard anything about our reassignment?”

“The good news is that you've both been assigned to remain here at the Hong Kong Shatterdome until further notice,” Tendo begins, sliding his tray onto the table as he takes a seat across from the two scientists, “but you,” he motions to Newt, “have also been assigned to accompany the marshal to a two-week kaiju defense conference in New Mexico. Which is why I'm glad I ran into you—you leave in three days.”

“Aw dude what the hell, three days?”

“Sorry brother, Herc didn't even find out until yesterday. He wasn't too happy about the short notice, either.”

Hermann watches as Newt makes a face and has to briefly stifle a smile because it's completely childish. “Your face might get stuck that way, Newton.” he warns, earning a chuckle from Choi and a half-hearted glare from Newt.

“God, shut up. You'd be making the same face if you had to spend two weeks with Herc Hansen.” Newt pauses at Tendo's raised eyebrow before rephrasing, “Which is to say that he's a terrifying man who gives me a very anti-science vibe and I've always had the feeling that he wants to punch me in the face.”

“I can almost guarantee that he won't punch anyone in the face.” Tendo responds with a clearly-amused head shake, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth. “Even if he wants to.”

“Great, that's comforting.”

“Come now, Newton, what happened to ' _fortune favors the brave, dude_ '? Surely Marshal Hansen isn't as intimidating as Hannibal Chau?”

Newt merely shakes his head and Hermann can't help the smile that graces his lips.


	5. Texts From Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt isn't excited about the conference, not one bit, and it's not his fault there's a mini-fridge full of booze in his hotel room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooooooooo I'm super sorry for the delay. College is a pain.

Newt pulls his jacket tighter around himself as he glares at the helicopter growing steadily larger on the horizon, barely registering the fact that Marshal Hansen is saying something but nodding when it seems appropriate anyway. It's way too early in the fucking morning to be awake and it'll be another few hours before he can even function properly but he's pretty sure that even if he was properly caffeinated, he still wouldn't be too thrilled about waiting for a helicopter that will take him to an airport to get on an actual plane which will take him on a too-fucking-long trip to a conference that he isn't even really prepared for.

Alone. With Marshal Hansen. 

Who, Newt admits to himself silently, isn't _that_ bad. He's a good man but they have fuck all in common, besides saving the world of course, and Newt's never quite sure if the guy's going to punch him in the face or not. 

He's honestly not even sure how he's going to survive the flight, let alone two weeks.

Even stranger, though, is the fact that he's going to be spending two weeks away from Hermann, which is just _weird_ because coexisting in their own little chaotic bubble had somehow become the norm for them but for the first time in a number of years, the bubble was being popped.

Newt tries to think back to the last time he and Hermann had been separated for more than a day but he can't, and a wave of uneasiness washes over him as the helicopter finally touches down because these two weeks were probably going to be the most stressful he'd ever experienced.

The helicopter ride is silent and there are several times on the plane where Hansen turns to the scientist, opening his mouth to say something before thinking better of it, turning back to the aisle with an awkward sigh. At one point, Newt asks, “So did you ever see that TV show with Jake Gyllenhaal and Ellen Page where they're detectives dealing with the kaiju-crimes unit?” because it's the first question that pops into his head, and _really_ , it hadn't been such a bad show except the title was pretty misleading and it wasn't even about kaiju committing crimes.

“No.” Herc responds in a tone that encourages Newt not to elaborate.

Well, at least he tried.

The flight is too long and too quiet and the only thing Newt can see out the window is clouds, driving him slowly insane. The trip would have been so much less painful had Tendo or Hermann come along, and he still doesn't understand why he hadn't been able to switch places with Hermann in the first place. Tendo, he understands. With the marshal gone, someone has to look after the Shatterdome and the most qualified dude for the job is Tendo.

But it could have just as easily been Hermann on that plane, rather than Newt.

When they finally land in Albuquerque, Newt is jittery and in serious need of caffeine, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet as he waits for people to file off the plane. The crowd of people in the airport as they make their way to the exit is almost overwhelming, but Newt follows Herc without complaint and carefully eyes the souvenir shops for something obnoxious and overpriced to buy for Hermann. 

It was going to be a long two weeks.

* * *

 

Hermann is woken up at 4:32 AM by the hum of his cell phone vibrating against the surface of his nightstand, somehow knowing it was a text from Newt before checking the screen. There really isn't anyone else it could be, anyway.

Of course, it turns out to be not just one, but _twelve_ texts from Newt and the mathematician blinks past the brightness of the screen before bringing up the message screen.

 

_“_ _Hey Hermann do you miss me yet?”_

_“Fact: hotel beds are 70000000% more comfy than shatterdome beds I bet you wish you'd switched places with me now.”_

_“How mad do you think Hansen would be if I drank all of the booze out of the mini-fridge??? Mad enough to kill me?????”_

_“I've decided that I earned this booze by coming on this trip and nothing is going to stop me from drinking all of it.”_

_“Hermannnnnnn. Why do you have to be asleep I have nothing to do the internet IS PASSWORD PROTECTED and there's nothing good on TV except some Spanish soap opera I'm going to die before this conference is even over.”_

_“Thmer are teqo beers left in th frmidgw, no eggplants.”_

_“*rebalanced.”_

_“**REGRETS.”_

_“Ohg od what if Hansewn kills me for thisn Hermannv I don;t wanna die.”_

_“_ _So many regrets. :( :( :(“_

_“Sya somethignd nice about me at my funernal okay? Nd make sure that tehy cast James McAvoy as me in the movie they make abt our lvies. I woudl also accept Chrsitiopher Walken as an alternative because Iknow I'm compeltely badass.”_

_“and to thikng I will have died withought ever knowicng true loves kiss :(“_

 

Hermann rolls his eyes, unable to help the smile that graces his lips because Newt is absolutely ridiculous and Hansen probably _will_ kill him, but there's something endearing about the biologist's drunken rants that has him formulating a response.

“ _You can't even wait a day before stirring up trouble, Newton? Do I always have to be there to hold your hand?_ ”

The response comes only a few moment later. “ _I wouddlnt' be oppososed to that ;)_ ”

 _“Go to bed, Doctor Geiszler.”_ Hermann texts back, knowing that Newt is too intoxicated to know what he's saying. It doesn't _mean_ anything, and Newt will probably look at the conversation the next morning and feel embarrassed that it even happened. 

There's a reason booze and phones don't mix.

He turns his phone off without waiting for a response, knowing that Newt will either take his advice or he won't. At least with his phone off, he won't have to deal with the incessant noise of the phone vibrating because he actually enjoys sleeping, thanks.

But try as he might, Newt's hand holding comment sticks with him way more than it should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, I know, but I hope to have the next chapter out soon-ish because finals will (thankfully) be over next week and my holiday vacation will usher in an age of glorious free time.
> 
> Any mistakes are my own because it's 1 AM.


	6. Separation Makes the Heart Grow Fonder, Or Something Like That

Sometimes, it really hits Newt how bad he's got it for Hermann, like when he's lying in bed at too-fucking-early, entirely unsure whether he's hungover or still slightly drunk because he's always had a low alcohol tolerance. He has the distinct feeling that he drunk texted Hermann— _like he always does_ —and bites back the disappointment he feels when he goes through last night's messages and doesn't find a sappy, heart felt, drunken love confession.

Somehow, he thinks it would be easier that way.

Because the temptation is always there, beneath the surface—the temptation to tell Hermann how he feels, if only to see how his lab partner reacts. They've become so accustomed to pushing each others buttons that it seems almost inevitable, at this point, that it'll come out eventually. He just has to figure out the most opportune moment to drop that particular bomb. And “mistakenly” confessing while intoxicated would at least get it all out on the table, even if it's a pretty shitty plan otherwise.

Newt swings his legs out of bed with a heavy sigh, deciding that he's probably still just a little bit buzzed, and stares down at his phone as he works his lower lip between hit teeth. “ _I stand by my decision to drink all the booze in the mini-fridge_.” he types out finally. “ _Not even hungover_.”

He likes to be smug about the fact that he doesn't hangovers because Hermann _does_ , and half the time Newt drinks more than him anyway. Newt just assumes that it's his superpower—and when he thinks about it, being immune to hangovers would be a pretty cool choice of superpower, if he were faced with choosing one.

He tosses his phone back down on the bed, watching as it practically gets swallowed by the down comforter, and gets to his feet so that he can take a shower before meeting Hansen for breakfast. The water is gloriously warm, and for more than fifteen minutes which is a mind-blowing realization to Newt because of how long he's spent living in a military base where water is a shared commodity. 

When he comes back out of the bathroom, half-dressed with water dripping from his hair, he finds a text from Hermann that says, “ _You won't be so smug when the marshal gets the bill_.” It's a valid point, but Newt is pretty sure that he'll be able to talk himself out of any trouble when he gets there. He has to survive the actual conference first, and he's still not entirely sure what he's up against in that regard.

Choosing to take things one step at a time, Newt takes a quick selfie of himself flipping off the camera and smiling before sending it to Hermann.

* * *

 

Hermann rolls his eyes at the selfie.

He's never even understood the point of selfies, but Newt's is just _childish_ and the mathematician is choosing to ignore the fact that his lab partner hadn't even bothered to put on a shirt before taking the picture.

He's also choosing to ignore the signs that Newt had so obviously just gotten out of the shower—the wet hair and the droplets of water on his tattooed chest—because it is _definitely_ too early in the morning to be having those kinds of thoughts, which of course also means that it's too early in the morning for a drink. Alcohol is certainly not his go-to solution but his feelings for Newton are just so infuriatingly frustrating that they get difficult to deal with sometimes.

It hits him sometimes how bad he's got it for Newt and he sits down in one of the chairs in the too-quiet lab, realizing suddenly how surreal it's going to be without the biologist there for two weeks. Somehow, he's grown fond of the music that he so often yells at Newt to turn down and the arguments they engage in on a near daily basis. The lab seems too quiet now, lacking an important component, and Hermann decides that he's going to head up to the mess hall where it's at least lively.

 

He's about to sit down with his tray when someone calls his name, and he looks over to see Tendo waving him over, dog-earing a page in his book before setting it beside his tray. When Hermann takes a seat across from him, he smiles. “How's it going, Gottlieb?”

“It's going...fine.” Hermann responds, giving Tendo a quick once over. They've never had a one-on-one conversation and it's almost strange, without Newt there to handle most of the talking.

“Glad to hear. You hear from Newt yet?” Tendo takes a bite from his tray, not even bothering to finish chewing before adding, “Are he and Herc at least trying to get along?”

“They haven't killed each other yet, but there's still time.” Hermann quips. “Newton went through the entire stock of alcohol in his hotel room, so I'm sure there will be consequences to face when Hansen gets the bill.”

“Nah, I bet Herc is going to do the same thing. I'm sure he won't do it in _one night_ , but I think Newt'll be fine. Herc really is a good guy, you know. He's just more of a ' _punch aliens in the face and plan battle strategies_ ' kinda guy, rather than a science man like yourself and Geiszler.”

“Even if he doesn't kill Newton over the alcohol, two weeks is a long time.” Hermann practically mumbles, knowing that Newt has an affinity for attracting trouble. 

“Can I ask you something, Gottlieb?” Tendo asks, and there's a look in his eyes like he's planning something. Hermann knows the look well after sharing a lab with Newt, and despite his immediate wariness, his shrugs.

“I don't see why not.”

“Have you ever considered telling Newt how you feel?”

“Pardon?” 

“It's none of my business, I know, but you give him this look like he's simultaneously the best and worst thing in your life and I'm just curious as to whether or not you've ever tried talking to him about...well, about romance things.” Hermann is silent for a few long moments, wondering when on earth he'd become so obvious about things, but before he can speak Tendo starts again. “Like I said, it's none of my business. But it's something you should consider. Anyway, I'm in charge of the Shatterdome so I'd best go make sure everything is running smoothly. If you ever get the chance, you should come up to the control panel because we're working on some things that I'm sure you could help with.”

“Sure.” Hermann manages, watching as Tendo stands and scoops up his tray and his book.

“I'll talk to you later, then.” the technician says with one last smile.

Hermann completely misses his knowing and amused head shake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd like to apologize for the ridiculous delay on this chapter. December was a super stressful month, full of finals and other college related bullshit and writing just hasn't been on my list of priorities.
> 
> However, I'm going to have a lot more time on my hands so I hope get chapter updates posted much more frequently.
> 
> I hope you all have had a fantastic 2014 so far! Thank you so much for reading.


	7. talking in code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone calls and Skype conversations

It hasn't even been a week and Newt is _absolutely_ ready to get on a plane back to Hong Kong. What little optimism he'd had in regards to the conference had all but diminished when it turned out to be more military oriented than science oriented, and he hasn't even been able to talk about the kaiju at all. Actually, there's been a shocking lack of kaiju talk in general, at least in terms of anything other than killing them.

Which, he thinks, is pretty damned ridiculous because the world would have ended if it hadn't been for his efforts, thank you very much. They could at least schedule in some time for kaiju science ranting.

He adjusts his tie, staring at his reflection in the hotel bathroom with a barely suppressed frown. Hansen had gone and involved him in _dinner plan_ _s_ with a couple of other people from the conference, and he probably wouldn't have such a problem if he was any good at socializing with people, but he isn't and he's well aware of the fact. He has the uncanny ability to shove his foot into his mouth with practically no effort at all, and he can only hope that first introductions go better than they had with Raleigh Becket.

Newt drops his hands to his sides, deciding that his tie is presentable enough despite the fact that it's still a bit lopsided. He still has a while before he has to meet Hansen at the hotel's adjoined restaurant, so he flops down on the bed and pulls out his phone, finding Hermann's name in his contacts and pressing the call button.

The dial tone sounds twice before there's an answer. “What on earth do you want, Newton?”

“I just wanted to remind you to feed Timothy. He's my precious skin louse baby and I probably won't be able to forgive you if he dies while under your watch.”

Hermann scoffs. “As disgusting as I find that creature, I've not forgotten to feed it once, so you don't need to—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Hermann...is that...are you listening to my Tom Petty album?” Newt can hear the faint sound of his greatest hits album playing in the background smirks. “I thought you hated my music, dude?”

“I never said that.”

“Yes, but,” Newt feels perplexed, maybe a bit flattered that Hermann thinks something of his musical taste, but it doesn't change the fact that the guy has yelled at him on countless occasions to turn his music off. “So how's life in the Shatterdome?” he asks finally, changing the subject.

“No different than when you left.”

“Aw. So my absence hasn't even affected you? I have to say, I'm a bit offended. Because I _definitely_ miss you, dude.” Newt tries to say it casually but it doesn't come out quite right, sounding more sincere than he'd wanted it to. Which, yeah, he's sincere about it but that's just not their dynamic, y'know?

“It has been quieter, I will admit.”

“Okay so, what are good topics of conversation that won't piss off dinner companions? Because Hansen is making me go to dinner with him and a couple other people from the conference and even though I don't wanna go, I figure I may as well be polite.”

“Well, Newton, since I don't know these people I have no way of knowing what is or isn't offensive to them. Perhaps just stick to small talk and think about what you're going to say before you say it.”

“Wow, thanks, as though I haven't learned how to do that when talking to people I don't know.” Newt says sort of sarcastically, which he feels a little bad about because Hermann's advice _had_ been pretty solid. “I meant like, general topics? What do people like to talk about these days?”

“You're asking the wrong person, I think.” Hermann chides, and Newt can't help but think about the fact that the only person he really wants to hold a conversation with is the one he's speaking to currently, even though their conversations are more abrasive than anything. “You should give yourself some credit, Newt. You can be likable.”

Newt bites his lip and ignores the ache in his chest that blossoms at Hermann's words, trying to find something to say that isn't overly flirtatious or harsh. But then he looks at the time and realizes that he needs to leave if he wants to be on time for dinner, so he lets out a sigh. “Well, I gotta get going. Herc would probably appreciate it if I showed up in a timely manner.” Newt stands up, straightening his shirt. “So hey, if I call you on Skype later, will you answer?”

Hermann pauses before saying, “I suppose.”

“Cool. Talk to you then.”

 

* * *

 

When Newt calls, it's painfully obvious that he's drunk and Hermann rolls his eyes because Newt's not supposed to be on a _vacation_. This is _work_. “Don't tell me they restocked your mini bar.”

Newt shoves a hand through his already messy hair, smirking. Hermann forgot how much he missed that smirk.

“Herc and I hung out, actually. Shared a case of Steel Reserve and poured our hearts out—you know, typical male bonding, I guess.”

“So how did dinner go?” Hermann asks, unsure if he wants any elaboration on Newt's bonding session with the marshal.

“Not as bad as I was expecting. One of the people we ate with is a scientist working on ways to clean up the environments affected by the kaiju. Her work actually sounds really interesting, and I have a little packet of papers that I'll show you when I get back. Did you know that there are actually some plants that can thrive in the toxic soil seeped in kaiju blue?” Newt hiccups, shifting on the large hotel bed so that he's lying on his stomach. “Ah, _science_.”

Hermann can't help the smile that graces his face because Newt is so uniquely perfect in his own crazy, obnoxious way, and, loathe as he is to admit it, he missed having face-to-face conversations with him.

“You'd better not fall asleep, Doctor Geiszler.” Hermann admonishes because New has his eyes closed, and he's really not ready for this conversation to be over. “It would be incredibly rude.”

“I'm not gonna fall asleep, dude!” Newt assures, but the words are followed by a yawn. “'M just drunk and things are a bit blurry.”

“That could be because you're not wearing you're glasses.”

“You know...that's a pretty logical explanation.” Newt nods, giving Hermann a dopey smile that makes the mathematician feel a bit light-headed. “But that also means that I don't know the whereabouts of my glasses and that's a bummer. I think I can see why you keep yours on a chain.” Newt pauses, thinking for a moment before adding, “But don't think that means I'm gonna stop calling you an old man for it because you totally are.”

Hermann can vaguely see Newt's glasses on the nightstand behind him, but he figures Newt will figure it out eventually so he doesn't say anything, choosing instead to watch the way Newt wiggles around until he's comfortable. He may not be an old man like Newt says, but he's most definitely too old for idiotic crushes like this.

“Hey, so can I ask you something?” Newt asks after a moment of silence, and there's something in his voice that very nearly puts Hermann on edge.

“You just did.”

“Oh, _ha ha_ , like that joke hasn't been around forever. I'm gonna ask you anyway, Mr. Smartass. So, like. I know you know that I'm pretty gay, and we've never talked about it or whatever, but I was kind of curious about you?” Newt's words are unsure, slurring only a few times as he stares down at his hands. “I mean, it's sort of a personal question so you can tell me to fuck off if you want. I probably won't even remember this in the morning, Steel Reserve packs a punch.”

Hermann doesn't spend too long thinking about the question because he doesn't want to over analyze it or anything, but he does briefly wonder where Newt's curiosity is coming from. “I'm bisexual,” he says after only a short silence. “Well, more in theory than in practice these days.”

Newt seems to consider this, silent for a few long seconds before letting out a groggy, “Huh.”

“Huh?”

“I just didn't know that.” Newt yawns again, and its obvious that he's fading fast. “Look, dude, I know I promised I wasn't going to fall asleep but I don't think I'm gonna be able to help it.”

Hermann doesn't feel satisfied with the conversation, and there's still more that's being left unsaid, he's sure, but he says his goodbyes anyway and watches as Newt rubs his eyes and ends the call.

They'll talk about it later, it's not like they're never going to see each other again.

But Hermann can't quite quash the hope that Newt might be interested in him, and he knows that it's most likely just a case of wishful thinking, but the possibility seems like its there.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow so. I suck, I know. I've had writer's block like crazy, and I've seriously considered scrapping this story on more than one occasion but I'm gonna try to stick with it. I'm so sorry for the delay, 2014 has been pretty weird so far and I've played more Fallout New Vegas than I've done anything relatively productive.
> 
> Gonna try my best to be a little bit more timely next time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Hermann think about things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly the most timely update I've ever made.

It doesn't take long for Newt to decide hangovers are the worst thing _ever_.

His stomach is turning and he trips twice on the way to the bathroom, miserably dropping to his knees in front of the toilet and expelling the contents of his stomach. He stays there for a few moments because every movement hurts and why the hell is everything so goddamned _bright_?

Maybe he deserves this after so many years of bragging about being immune to hangovers, mostly to people suffering _from_ hangovers. Karma's a bitch.

When he finally finds the strength to shove himself to his feet he flushes the toilet and brushes the taste of death out of his mouth, making a half-hearted attempt of arranging the pieces of the previous night in his head as he stares at his reflection. Thinking is nearly impossible, though, with his headache—the headache to rival every headache he's ever had before—and he can't quite recall anything past his fourth can of Steel Reserve. He vaguely remembers a Skype call with Hermann, but he's not sure if it had been a dream or not, rubbing his eyes as he snatches a pair of jeans off the floor. A quick glance at the clock lets him know that it's _too damn early_ , and he has at least a few hours before the day's presentations start which means that he has time to make himself feel a bit more human.

It takes him a while to track down his phone but when he finds it under the bed there are three new messages, all of them from Hermann. Newt sits on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply to keep the woozy feeling at bay as he unlocks the screen. The first message simply says “ _Drink a glass of water before you pass out_ ” and while he can't remember whether or not he'd followed the advice it warms his heart to know that Hermann cares enough to remind him.

The next message is a picture and Newt grins, hangover temporarily forgotten as he stares at the image of Timothy the skin louse leaning up to where Hermann's hand is pressed against the glass of the terrarium. Which not only serves as proof that the mathematician has actually kept up with feeding Timothy, but that Timothy is even taking a liking to the guy.

Well, that or he's planning on making a meal of Hermann's hand.

But Newt's pretty sure it's the first option.

As he scrolls down a bit, the third and final message makes him blink a few times, staring at the small wall of text before he can focus in on the actual words. “ _Newton, I want you to know that you don't have to be intoxicated in order to ask me personal questions. You seem to be under the impression that I don't wish to share anything with you, and while there's not much you don't know about me after all of this, I will answer you honestly. Additionally, as much as I love your drunken rambling, I would recommend cutting back on the alcohol before you damage your liver irreparably. You're of no use to me with alcohol poisoning. Sleep well, Newt. Althou_ _gh_ _, the sentiment may be belated because you've probably already fallen asleep. Goodnight, nonetheless._ ”

Newt stares down at the screen until it goes dark, swiping a thumb across the surface to bring it back to life but still at a loss for how to respond.

Well, the Skype call had obviously been reality rather than a dream. That's one mystery solved.

He runs a hand through his already messy hair, trying to remember what exactly he'd asked Hermann and what the response had been but coming up with nothing, tossing his phone down on the bed with a frustrated groan. 

 

* * *

 

Hermann most certainly does _not_ spend his morning nervously re-reading the texts he'd sent to Newt. That would be absolutely preposterous.

He does, however, find himself meandering into the control room after a few hours with no response. He searches for Tendo among the few scattered people in the room, finally finding the technician at the far wall talking to a woman that Hermann doesn't recognize. He realizes that he's not even sure what he wants to say, or even how he wants to say it, and he certainly doesn't want to interrupt any important work that's going on.

“Dr. Gottlieb!” Tendo calls, just as the mathematician decides to make a hasty retreat, saying a quick goodbye to the woman before catching up with Hermann. “What brings you up here?”

“I'd like to talk to you. About Newton.” Hermann manages awkwardly, hoping to God that Tendo doesn't think it's a ridiculous request. He's never actually _talked_ about his feelings for Newt but being away from the biologist has given him nothing else to think about and its driving him mad.

But Tendo doesn't even look surprised, just levels a raised eyebrow and a knowing look at Hermann before motioning to the door. “Come on, I was just about to get a cup of coffee anyway.” He says with a smile, leading the way to a nearly empty break room. Mako Mori and Raleigh Becket are sitting at one of the tables and Tendo offers a wave but nothing else. “So, Newt.” He says after they've both grabbed coffee, sitting across from Hermann at one of the more out-of-the-way tables.

Hermann sighs, unsure of where to actually begin. He hadn't thought this far ahead. “As you so easily pointed out, I do have...feelings. For him.”

“Understandable.”

“But I'm not sure how to approach the situation.”

Tendo looks hesitant, glancing around before leaning in closer. “Look, you did _not_ hear this from me, alright? But I think that if you just, y'know...went for it, your chances for success would be pretty damn high.”

Hermann narrows his eyes because Tendo clearly knows more than he's letting on. “Elaborate.”

“Shit, okay. Again, I never told you this, but Newt totally has the hots for you, brother. And, no, I'm not basing that statement off of observation, even though the both of you are just...terribly obvious. My intel comes straight from the source. So _trust me_ when I tell you that you should just go for it, because I'm about ninety-five percent sure that you'll be satisfied with the outcome.” Tendo gives Hermann a serious look before raising his coffee cup to his lips.

Hermann processes this, schooling his features into something nonchalant because he's not a teenager, for God's sake. “I see.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Hermann talk about stuff.

 

Newt finds it impossible to focus on any of the presentations.

His hangover—though significantly better after downing a Red Bull and eating a greasy breakfast burrito—is still making him pretty miserable, tempting him to swear off alcohol forever.

Just the thought of alcohol makes him want to vomit.

The other pressing issue on his mind is Hermann, and his fingers itch to reach for his phone even though he knows he'll only end up re-reading Hermann's texts for the five-bajillionth time in the span of a morning.

He's pretty sure he's figured out what they talked about during their Skype call, thinking a bit more clearly now, but he can't be _certain_.There are still blank spots in his memory, and he doesn't want to work solely on the possibly mis-remembered fact that Hermann may or may not have said something about being bisexual.

When they break for lunch Newt retreats to the hall and sinks down against the wall, taking full advantage of the time he has to pull his phone out finally. He ignores the low battery notification and brings up his conversation with Hermann, clicking the text box though he's still at a loss for what to say.

He starts typing several times but backspaces them almost immediately.

He's grimacing down at his screen when Herc Hansen finds him, sliding to the floor beside him. The marshal seems to be in a similar state, silent as he holds out a bottle of water for Newt.

“Ugh thank you, this hangover is the _worst_.” Newt mutters, laying his phone on his lap before uncapping the bottle.

“I hear ya.” Hansen agrees gruffly, taking a swig from his own bottle. “Is that Gottlieb yer' trying to text there?”

Newt vaguely remembers ranting about Hermann at some point while getting drunk with Herc, and he feels the tips of his ears going pink. “Yep.” He takes a sip of the blissfully cool water. “I guess I'm not as good at this whole ' _sharing emotions_ ' thing when I'm sober.”

“I don't reckon many people are.” Herc says with a short huff of breath that resembles a chuckle, turning to Newt to give him a serious look. “Lemme give you some advice: be up front about things or you may end up regretting all the things you never said. Gottlieb's a good man, he'll understand.”

Newt swallows thickly, nodding. Herc returns the gesture before heaving himself to his feet. “I'm going to get something to eat before presentations start up again. Don't wander too far.”

Once he's alone again, Newt sighs and picks up his phone, resolving to come up with a response before he has to get up.

“ _I have already sworn off alcohol for the rest of my life because I just discovered how not-fun hangovers are, so there's no need to worry about my liver, Herms, but I appreciate the concern. And even if it's just my drunk ramblings, I KNEW there was something you loved about me! :P You should also know that if you had any questions for me I_ _most likely_ _would_ _not_ _hassle you too much for asking them. Oh, and you maybe shouldn't stick your hand near Timothy's mouth? I mean, he probably thinks of you as a weird human uncle or something but you have nice hands and it would be a shame if they were eaten._ ”

Newt sends the message without looking it over, knowing that he'll lose his nerve if he thinks about it too hard. He just has to hope that it was free of embarrassing typos.

He doesn't expect an immediate response because it's around one in the morning in Hong Kong, but Newt's phone vibrates almost as soon as he sets it down.

“ _Call me later?_ ” is all it says, not exactly what Newt had been expecting but still better than a negative reaction.

 

* * *

 

_God_ , Newt had complimented his hands.

Hermann once again feels like he's in too deep as he reads over Newt's text, nervous energy making him fidgety as he waits for Newt to call. Maybe “ _call me later?_ ” hadn't been the best response but it had been late and he hadn't been able to think of anything else to say. He's been steadily working up the courage to...well, to do _something,_ though he's not entirely sure what that something is going to be yet. He'll work it out when he gets there.

He's been thinking about Tendo's advice, and maybe he _should_ just go for it. Even if it turns out badly—though Hermann has no reason to believe that Tendo would mislead him—it would clear things up and he'd at least be able to move on.

He's in the lab when his phone goes off, the abrupt sound making him jump and scramble for the device with his heart in his throat. “Hello?”

“Just so you know, I was _not_ joking about the possibility of Timothy eating your hands. He's a skin louse and hands are, y'know...made out of skin.” Hermann can hear a Spanish soap opera in the background as Newt clears his throat.

“I'll keep that in mind,” Hermann says, casting a dubious glance over to where the skin louse is asleep in his terrarium. “How's the hangover?”

“ _Ugh_ , fucking terrible. I feel a lot better than I did this morning but it's been sticking with me all day. I'm gonna sleep well tonight, let me tell you.”

“And I take it you've learned a lesson about alcohol?”

“Blugh, don't remind me, dude. Just hearing that word makes me gag.”

Hermann chuckles, smiling fondly as he looks over at Newt's side of the lab. There's a short silence before both of them speak at the same time.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hey, so I was wondering—”

Hermann pulls his lips into a thin line, palms sweating because this feels like it's going to be _The_ Conversation. “Go ahead.”

Newt clears his throat again and Hermann can practically see the guy fidgeting. “Well, um. To start off I suppose I should ask what exactly we talked about on Skype? I mean, I kinda sorta remember it but I'm not really sure. Specifically, personal questions?” Newt sounds very unsure about himself, rushing to add, “I feel like it was something like you telling me you're bisexual?”

“You would be correct.”

“Cool, so, next question. Or well, maybe I should just...” Newt audibly takes a deep breath and Hermann's surprised he can actually hear it over the blood rushing through his ears. “I was talking to Herc this afternoon and he said that, um. Saying things is better than regretting not saying them. And so what _I_ have to say it that I...like you? Kind of a lot. And, God, maybe you already knew that because of the Drift, but I'm tired of not knowing and if you don't feel the same that's totally cool I just figured...you know, may as well get it out on the table.”

Hermann is speechless for a few long moments because Newt beat him to the punch. He was expecting to be the one spilling his heart out here.

But maybe he _should_ have expected this—maybe it's been a long time coming. Finally, he finds his voice “Newton, I—I care about you so deeply. You are quite possibly the most obnoxious person I've ever met but you're also the most brilliant, and you would be a fool to think I didn't share your feelings. I learned a lot of things about you in the Drift but I couldn't tell if...well, if you had feelings for anyone. For a while I was under the impression that you and Hannibal Chau were together, but he told me otherwise when you were unconscious on his couch.”

“I was actually...not so unconscious for that.” Newt admits with a nervous laugh. “I mean, I figured you were just pissed to have been jumped in an alleyway. I didn't know that—”

“I was jealous?”

“Yeah.”

“Moreso than I'd like to admit.”

“Hannibal Chau is not an unattractive man, but he's not you, Hermann. No one is. I mean, have you _seen_ you? You're fuckin' perfect, dude.”

“I wouldn't say _that—_ ”

“Well _I_ would. You're the only other person who stuck around when things were looking grim and I know for a _fact_ that I wouldn't have been able to save the world without you. I sort of wish that we'd waited a few more days to have this conversation because this is the part where I'd ask if I could kiss you and you'd maybe say yes? And then I'd talk about how handsome I find you and—fuck, Hermann, you're astounding and I'm rambling so you should stop me before I say something dumb like how Tendo and I made up Operation: Prince Charming because you're my Disney prince, and it _wasn't_ even and actual plan it was just Tendo teasing me about my super obvious crush.”

Hermann doesn't have words to describe what he's feeling, but his heart feels like it's going to beat right out of his chest if he's not careful. “Newton, I cannot even describe what I feel for you but, according to Tendo, I am just as unsubtle about it. We certainly will have a lot to discuss when you get back from New Mexico.”

“In less than a week, I might add.”

Hermann can feel his goofy smile, and he's glad that no one is around to witness it. “Less than a week.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT??? Two updates within the same week, is that even POSSIBLE?? Apparently.
> 
> So I guess I never actually bothered to look up the time difference between Albuquerque and Hong Kong before? That seems like something I should have done sooner, but it never occurred to me that there was such a drastic time difference. Oh well.
> 
> I'm thinking of changing the rating because the next chapter might get a little risque...I mean, I don't want to give away too much but let me just say this: long distance phone sex. I'm still on the fence though, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Thank you for reading, friends!

**Author's Note:**

> Pacific Rim is great, the scientists are great, and this fandom is great!  
> This will probably only have 2-3 chapters, but I have a tendency to get carried away while writing and this has the potential to become longer than that oops.  
> However, 2-3 chapters is a safe bet.  
> It's 3AM and any mistakes are my own.  
> Also, I should add that, in this fic, the drift didn't stick around so much once they disconnected. They can read each other better and get the occasional pang of emotion that isn't theirs, but their minds are mostly their own uwu


End file.
